Echoes of Pain
by HaloFin17
Summary: Just in case the writers of the next series decide to gloss over the fact that Wylde now has a mechanical arm, I've decided to take matters into my own hands with this angsty little oneshot. As always, please enjoy, and feel free to review!


**Summary: **Just in case the writers of the next series decide to gloss over the fact that Wylde now has a mechanical arm, I've decided to take things into my own hands with this angsty little oneshot on what would surely be some of the repercussions after such a horrible ordeal. Please enjoy, and feel free to review!

**Disclaimer: **For as many times as I've said Kurt and Markie are my favorite characters, I still don't own them or anything else in the Hot Wheels universe.

**Author's Note: **Ok, now that I'm back writing in AcceleRacers again, it's time for another angsty little oneshot. And knowing me, who else would I focus on but the Wylde boys? So, I'm worried that if and when there is a new Hot Wheels series, they may just try to gloss over the fact that Markie's gonna go through the rest of his life with this creepy robotic arm. Hello, people? This is kind of important here! But it's got such potential for good angst that I simply couldn't pass it up as a fic idea. Many thanks to my dear friend **Samantha** for her input when I first started planning this fic, and kudos to **Kat Carbines **for reading over the beginning and giving me some pointers when I first started writing it! She and I lovingly call this fic "Arm Angst", lol. Love you lots, chicas! Enjoy, everyone!

**Echoes of Pain**

_"Just tell me what I want to know," a cold feminine voice echoed throughout the dark, barren room. "Tell me the location of the Accledrome, and I'll make it stop."_

_A hot, searing pain sliced into his left shoulder, and Mark Wylde screamed like he'd never screamed before. The restraints on his arms and legs held him fast so that screaming was the sole manner in which he could release his agony._

_"Just tell me," Gelorum purred, her voice seductive and smooth. "It doesn't have to be like this. Just talk."_

_Wylde clenched his teeth against the pain, fearful that if he opened his mouth at all, he would betray his friends. But the torment was too much, and another desperate cry escaped his lips. The razor-like instrument sank into his flesh, and the youngest Metal Maniac only wished it all would end. How much longer could he resist?_

_"It can be over now," the robotic woman told him. She stepped closer, no doubt sensing how very near her prisoner was to breaking. A bit more…persuasion, and he would be hers. At another nod from her, the device was forced deeper into the human's limb, and he screamed again. Gelorum smiled._

_"Where is the Acceledrome, Mark Wylde? Just tell me where it is, and I will end all this. Tell me."_

_Wylde screamed once more and made another vain attempt to wrench his arm away from the unimaginable anguish, but the manacle at his wrist was unyielding. The instrument moved, and the pain sank deeper. Deeper. Deeper…_

* * *

Mark Wyle woke with a jolt and strangled gasp, only to find himself drenched in a cold sweat and tangled up in the motel bed sheets. Slightly disoriented and breathing heavily, he looked over at the bed across from him just in time to see his brother's sleeping form stir.

"Markie?" Kurt asked groggily after raising his head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," the younger man said, unmoving. "Just a bad dream."

Kurt sat up with a weary sigh and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "You've been having those a lot lately – nearly every night this week."

Wylde's shoulders twitched upward in an apathetic shrug. "It's no big deal. I'll be all right."

"You sure?"

Even with his back turned, Wylde could vividly see the concerned frown creasing his brother's face. He had seen it many times lately.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm just kinda tired still."

"Okay. Get some sleep then. You know I'm here if you need anything, right?"

Mark smiled a little, though the expression went unseen. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Kurt."

He then listened closely to the sounds of his elder getting resituated, all the while pretending to sleep again himself. But he would find no more rest tonight. It was a while before Kurt's quiet, even breathing betrayed that he was asleep, yet Wylde continued to lie still for a bit longer.

The plain truth of the matter was that Kurt didn't even realize how right he was. These dreams had been plaguing the younger Wylde ever since he had been rescued from Gelorum's headquarters, and he had simply become an expert at feigning slumber, so as not to burden his sibling with any more worry than was necessary. Goodness knew Kurt already troubled himself enough on his errant kid brother's account.

When he was certain his roommate was sleeping soundly, Wylde carefully eased himself up out of bed and slipped quietly past his brother and out the door, closing it with extra care behind him. Some fresh air would surely do him good.

He stood outside in the cool desert night, grateful to be outdoors. It was a perfectly clear night, and a myriad of stars stretched out across the open expanse above him. The Metal Maniac drew a deep breath and slowly made his way over to the motel's small outdoor pool, sitting on the edge and dangling his bare feet in the water.

They had been searching for Vert for over two weeks now but still hadn't found so much as a trace of him. On the one hand, it was comforting to know that he hadn't been caught in the explosion of the Acceledrome, but on the other hand, they had absolutely no idea where that punk could be. And so they were scouring the desert, stopping occasionally at low key motels such as this whenever they really needed to rest and clean up.

Wylde sighed dejectedly and stared down at his reflection in the water. Unfortunately for him, these haunting nightmares had made sleep nearly impossible, and so he'd had to make do with a quick nap here and there, more often than not brought on by sheer exhaustion when his troubled mind lacked sufficient energy to recall those chilling memories in dreams.

He frowned and flexed his unwanted mechanical arm experimentally. It hurt. It always did after those horridly vivid dreams, throbbing with a dull, persistent ache that no pain killer Kurt shoved in his direction could ever alleviate. Shadow pains. He knew they weren't real this time, but that didn't make them any less uncomfortable.

_Metal Maniac. _The name had a new significance now, and he felt certain he was the one member of the team most worthy of such a title. Part of him _was _metal now, and any sane person outside of Dr. Tezla's core group of drivers would be sure think him a veritable "maniac" for having such a conspicuous appendage.

For instance, shortly after they'd left the smoking ruins of the Acceledrome behind them, Kurt had insisted that his brother be taken to an experienced medical doctor, both for the arm and any other lingering effects of the pain he had endured at Gelorum's hands, and even Lani and Dr. Tezla himself had agreed it would be a good idea. But Wylde had adamantly refused.

Still gazing intently down at the clear water, he reached up to his left shoulder and deliberately fingered the bright green symbols of the Drone racers which stood out in stark contrast against the jet black metal that constituted the rest of the artificial limb. He didn't think he'd never be able to see a doctor again. After all, how could he explain _this_?

How would he even be able to go home like this? His parents would hardly believe him, even if he had Kurt to back him up, but they would certainly freak out when they saw that their youngest son was well on his way to becoming Darth Vader. His parents – he hadn't seen them since before he'd ended up in jail. Over two years now.

Wylde swallowed hard around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. Would he ever be able to look the rest of society squarely in the eye again? Granted, he had never exactly been a conformist, but tattoos were one thing. This robotic arm was entirely another. And with the Drone markings, it could never even pass as the result of a medical emergency. He was stuck, and the only other people who would really, truly understand were his fellow drivers who had saved him.

"Guess I'll be wearing a jacket and gloves for the rest of my life," he muttered softly and reached down to idly run the tips his mechanical fingers through the still water. It was a simple action, but Mark couldn't help but feel that he was flirting with danger.

As of yet, his new limb had not been completely submerged in water, and how it might respond in such a state remained a mystery. Kurt had nearly driven himself into a panic when his sibling had first taken a shower after his rescue, but all the drivers had admitted it was indeed a necessity, and thankfully, no harm was done.

Pork Chop had then graciously offered to drop Sparky in the pool of whatever motel they had been currently staying at as a kind of experiment, but Monkey had most vehemently stopped his friend, protesting that Sparky would be "fried to a crisp" and electrocute any other living thing in the water. Needless to say, it had not exactly been an encouraging response, and Wylde had made it a point to avoid getting excess water on his mechanical arm as much as possible.

"Ya know, if you fall in and don't fry, I'm gonna have to knock you upside the head myself for being so stupid."

Wylde grinned despite his melancholy reflections and lifted his hand from the water's surface, watching in strange fascination as the droplets clung to his fingers until they finally fell back into the pool with a quiet "plop." It really was quite amazing how quickly the tiny ripples reached the other side.

"I thought you were asleep, Kurt," he said, at last acknowledging his sudden companion.

"I was," the older man responded as he approached. "But when I woke up again, it was kinda hard to miss that you weren't there. What's up?"

"I just needed some air," Mark replied rather indifferently, letting his fingers trail back through the water.

There was a deep sigh from behind him, and the younger Wylde glanced over at his brother who had sat down next to him by the pool.

"Come on, Markie," Kurt urged him. "I know you haven't been sleeping well since we brought you back, and I can understand why. But you can't keep going like this forever. Why don't you just tell me what's really bothering you? Please?"

_Please, _Wylde noted grimly. That was certainly one word Gelorum never used during _her_ interrogations. At least when Kurt questioned him, he knew the intentions were good.

"Please, Markie?" Kurt tried again, his voice breaking into his brother's morbid thoughts. "I hate seeing you like this and not knowing what I can do to help."

"But there _isn't_ anything, Kurt!" Wylde finally bit out with more than a trace of bitterness in his voice. "I know you mean well, but it's over! You already saved me once. There's nothing more you can do about it now."

Kurt was silent for a moment, simply looking on while his younger brother regained his composure.

"I owe you guys my life," Mark went on in a softer tone, "and I'll always be grateful for that. But it still doesn't change what happened." He glanced down at his artificial black hand. "I don't want to think about it, but I can't forget it, either. And even though I know it's over, it still hurts – in more ways than one."

He finally looked up to meet his brother's caring blue eyes and felt unwanted moisture welling up in his own brown ones. "I'll never really be the same – will I, Kurt?"

Kurt didn't respond right away, only reached up and laid a gentle hand on his sibling's cold, mechanical shoulder.

"Markie," he slowly began at last, "you and I have both been through a lot over the last couple years, and I know a lot's changed. But you're still my little brother, and _that_ will never change – Drone arm, or no."

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Wylde's lips then, and he nodded his heartfelt appreciation, furiously blinking back more tears, before Kurt went on.

"But I don't think I'll tease you quite as much anymore, now that you can probably knock me out with one punch."

Wylde threw his brother a quizzical look, taken aback by the sudden change of mood. But he soon caught on and grinned in his typically mischievous manner.

"Lucky for you, big bro, I'm right-handed, so I won't be quite as likely to hit ya with this hunk of metal. Still, I wouldn't push my luck if I were you."

Kurt laughed and suddenly stood up with a wide yawn. "All right, little brother, if you say so. But right now, I'm going back to bed. You coming?"

The Metal Maniac thought about that a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I'm comin'."

He reached up, taking his brother's proffered hand, and gratefully followed him back inside the motel. And for the first time in many nights, Mark Wylde slept peacefully.


End file.
